The Five champions of Nirn: An Elder Scrolls story
by Alexius Tsakirakius
Summary: This is the story of five heroes, from daggerfall, morrowind, oblivion and skyrim, plus a little extra of mine, whose destiny is to save the world of Nirn.
1. Prologue-The Gathering

The Five Champions of Nirn

An Elder Scrolls fanfiction, written by Alexis Tsakirakis

Part I: Gathering

It was a cold damp night in Daggerfall. Everyone was safe in their beds. At least as safe as they could be, in the city of plots. Septimus, most commonly known as the hero of Daggerfall, was spending the Night at an inn. He woke up to the sound of footsteps and, as he opened his eyes, saw a hooded figure looming over him.

"You've made som' folks very angry", said the hooded man while drawing a black, mean-looking dagger from his belt. "Important folks. Now they send'd me to teach ya a less'n"

Before he could react, a purple flash bathed the room in light and Septimus lost his consciousness. When it was over, the only person left in the room was a really surprised looking cutthroat, with a dagger ready in his hand.

"This kind o' shit only happens to me, fo' cert'n", he muttered. "fuckin' wiz'rds".

The city of Mournhold was busy as always. Dark Elf citizens were shopping in the markets, sitting in the parks and generally minding their business, while Argonian slaves were running errands for their masters. The Nerevarine was attending a boring meeting in Almalexia's palace and praying to Azura for some action.

"... and I am certain the Nerevarine is of one mind with me", she heard Almalexia say "aren't you"

"Hmm?" the Nerevarine looked up and saw everyone looking at her, expecting an answer. She wasn't paying much attention to the conversation and knew not what was being discussed. The only thing she knew was that Almalexia had invited her so that she would have the Nerevarine at her back and that she had spent five hours of torture in that chamber, trying not to start snoring and that representatives of the Great Houses, the Priesthood and of course Almalexia the goddess-queen of Morrowind were sitting there waiting for her answer to a question she hadn't heard, about a matter she didn't know. How difficult the life of a hero can sometimes be, she thought to herself.

"I… umm.. I think that… ehmm…" before she could finish the sentence, a purple flash shone in the middle of the room. She heard a low, warm yet commanding voice whisper "Sleep". A voice she was all too familiar with.

"Azura…" she begun saying before the world grew dark around her.

It was Mondas, the fifteenth of Last Seed, the year 3 of the fourth era and Arturus Bherrus, the Champion of Cyrodiil was kneeling in front of a shrine of Akatosh inside the temple in the Imperial City. It was a relatively warm day outside, perfect for a walk, but the Champion was in no mood for strolling.

"Akatosh, lord of time and Father of us all, forgive me, for I have sinned", he said. "I missed the sermon delivered yesterday by thy holy priest."

No answer came from the shrine. He was sure this was because Akatosh had not forgiven him. He was desperate for the dragon-god's forgiveness, and so he continued.

"I know how terrible my error is, but please take pity upon me. I have been a god respecting man all my life. I greatly contributed to the temple and have been thy loyal servant in your righteous battle against the evil demon Mehrunes-Dagon, daedric prince of destruction" he said, but still the shrine was as silent as the stones from which it had been made.

He got up and was ready to leave. The priests would tell him to calm down about the matter, he was sure, but he wanted to give the divines their proper respect. He turned around towards the temple doors and gasped at what he saw. Before him shone a sphere of light that glowed with an otherworldly purple glow. Arturus knew for sure that there was something demonic going on about it. He unsheathed his sword and slashed at it.

"Away with you, vile abomination!" he yelled as he slashed at it again, to no avail. The sphere moved towards him and surrounded him lifting him from the ground. He could not speak or move. His head was aching. His sight blurred and darkness took him.

Ah, what a pleasant day, thought the Dovahkiin. And it truly was a pleasant day. The skies of Skyrim were clear and blue and the temperature was fine, if a bit too warm for his liking. But the best is, he thought, not a single dragon in the horizon. His thoughts were interrupted by a hooded Kahjit who came close to him, brandishing a dagger.

"All right, hand over all your valuables!" said the Kahjit.

"A thief! And I was beginning to think this day was boring." said the Dovahkiin "I'll give you ten seconds to turn around and bolt, thief"

"What are you saying, Nord? This one wants your valuables, and you best hand them over quick!"

"Fool! Don't you recognize me? I am Raglaff Strong-voice, the Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and yielder of the Voice!"

"Kahjit doesn't care who you are! Just give me your gold!" spoke the mugger in a furious voice.

"I've got three words for you." said Raglaff "FUS RO…"

Before he could finish his shout, purple light flashed all around him and he lost his senses.

"Whe-where am I?" wondered Septimus loudly.

He looked around him. It was dark, too dark to see. He concluded that either he had been blinded, or that there simply wasn't any light.

"Oh, my head…" he heard somebody say.

"Daah…" answered another voice.

"Why is it so dark?" said a woman.

Suddenly, there was light. A purple glow that seemed uncannily familiar. He looked around again. There didn't seem to be a floor under him, yet he wasn't falling. He noticed that there weren't any walls either. With him he saw three figures in the dim glow. One was a strong-looking Nord with dark hair and a beard he could see under his helm. He had a greatsword in a sheath on his back. His armor was that of the ancient Nords, a sight Septimus had only seen in books. He was struggling to get up and was mumbling something about magic. The other was a slender dark elf woman clad in dark leather. Her hair was black and her face was beautiful. Her eyes were a shade of violet, a color unusual for an elf. She had two daggers and a sword strapped to her belt. Septimus could see that she was trying to find the way out. Last he looked upon a heavily armed Imperial, clad in a royal red-gold armor that bore the sign of the Septim dynasty of Emperors, the golden dragon in a red field. He was lacking a helm, and a shield of the same quality as the armor lay next to him. He looked older than the others, as streaks of grey adorned his hair and beard. He was grabbing his head and had a very puzzled expression on his face.

They sat there in awkward silence for a while, until Septimus decided to break it.

"Are we… are we dead?" he asked.

The others looked at him like he had just said something extremely stupid. Finally, the Nord spoke.

"I've been to Sovengarde and it is not a bit like this. We are not dead, of that you can be sure, master Breton."

"Then where are we?" said the Elf lady "And what is this purple mist?"

"Oh, there is no need to puzzle your little heads dears" Echoed a strange female voice. They all turned to look at its source where a portal had opened and a lady was now standing in front of it. She looked beautiful, but cruel. She wore a purple robe, same as the color of the mist. Septimus recognized her by the object she was holding; a large gem in the shape of a six-angled star. Azura's star.

"Lady Azura!" said the elf as she bowed before the daedric prince of dusk and dawn.

"No need for that, child." said the goddess "I have much to say and you four have much to hear".

"I do not take orders from daedra!" yelled the Imperial and reached for a spot in his belt where his sword should have been. "My sword! What have you done with it, wretched creature?"

"Spare me your pitiful pride, mortal" said Azura "The only reason you are still living is that you may prove useful. Now listen to me. I have foreseen that a great evil will soon cast its shadow on Tamriel. An Evil whose name and nature that even I can't see. You four heroes shall save Tamriel or die trying. The Dragonborn of the Fourth era, the Nerevarine, the Hero of Daggerfall and the Champion of Cyrodiil"

At this point Septimus was really confused. A daedric prince had gathered himself and three other heroes whose names he had never heard of to save the world from some evil even she could not clearly see. He knew the legends of the Dragonborn and Nerevar, but he had never heard of this two. The only Dragonborn he knew was Tiber Septim and he had long since been dead.

"What makes you think we will?" exclaimed the Imperial

"You don't have much of a choice now, do you?" answered the daedric prince.

"Let's just get done with it. Where is that evil I must kill?" the Nord said with his greatsword already unsheathed.

"If only it was that simple, Dovahkiin" laughed Azura "I will send you forward in time to the Fifth era, when people have forgotten your names and your actions. There you must fight for the survival of this plain and of all the other plains"

"Wait, lady Azura" the Dark Elf said "won't you at least give us some guidance?"

"I will trust you with a prophecy but that is all the aid I can grant.

_When fire and darkness walk the earth_

_When the land of kings fall _

_When the traitors wake and bring despair_

_For five heroes Nirn calls"_

Before they could protest the purple mist surrounded each one of them and the world darkened again.

_Hi guys, I am new to Fanfiction, so please send in any advice you have it will really help! This was the first episode of my Elder Scrolls fanfiction called "the Five Champions of Nirn". The second episode will be coming soon._


	2. Chapter II -A quest begins

Chapter II: A quest begins

Septimus woke up feeling kind of dizzy. He just needed two seconds to recall the past events. The hired killer, the purple light, the other champions, Azura herself… Boy what a night, he thought to himself.

"Ugh… Where are we?" spoke the Elf lady, in a voice that touched the mage's ear in a very peculiar way…

"It seems to be some sort of cave, said Septimus. Where are the others?"

"I… I don't know. How do we get out of here?"

"There seems to be a door right behind you", he answered, making the girl laugh.

"Right. Stupid me", said the Dunmer, pushing the door. The door however would not open. Septimus walked up to her and offered to help her, but she waved her hand and said "Chill, I got this". She leaned in and put a lockpick on the lock. "You sure you know what you are doing?"

The look he received was one of minor annoyance. He could tell she was used to hearing her skills put to doubt. She moved the pick with small, elegant moves and bend the lock to her will.

With an audible creak the door opened, revealing a dark and long corridor. "Shall we?" said the Elf while rising to her feet.

"Wait a moment, he answered, let me grab my things first!"

He searched the room for his bag, but he couldn't find it. "Seems Azura only transported us here"

"I know" she replied pointing at the empty sheath on her belt.

They started walking on the narrow corridor. Septimus looked at the woman standing next to him. He struggled to remember her name, thinking that simply calling her "Elf" would be idiotic. Then, it dawned on him.

"Amidst all the teleporting and daedra magic, I don't think I caught your name"

She looked very uncomfortable at the question. She started to say something. Then she looked forward and shouted "Oh, look another door!"

Raglaff was not happy. There he was, in a locked room with the worst example of Imperial whinnery. His sword was gone and the blue skies of Skyrim no longer hung above his head.

"By Akatosh, what's going on? said the middle-aged imperial. I have to go back to Cyrodiil!"

"Quit your whining, Milk-Drinker!" Raglaff was seriously pissed-off by him.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I offend you, but some of us are trying to find a way to escape the vile demon's grasp" retorted the Imperial.

"Are your ears covered with horker dung? She said that we are to save the world! I thought she was gathering heroes, not crying little boys!"

"I don't have to take that from you!"

"Two septims says you do, old man!"

"You are on", shouted the Imperial, raising his fists.

Raglaff went for a direct hit to the face, but his opponent blocked it, grabbing the Dovahkiin's fist. "Hot-headed and unthinking, as I expected", he said in a cocky tone.

"Shut your mouth and fight!" was Raglaff's first answer. His next answer was a kick to the stomach that, unlike the punch, found its target. The older man fell back. "Very good", he said. Then he took a step forward and launched a slow hit at Raglaff's right side. The Nord easily blocked it, but at the same time, the Imperial's left fist landed on his face knocking him back. The Dragonborn spat and raised his fists. He launched at his enemy, throwing all he had at him. They felled to the floor still throwing kicks and punches at each other.

Just then the door opened and two baffled faces emerged. Raglaff could barely recognize them, partly due to the fact that an Imperial boot was pressing against his face. He quickly rose to his feet and dusted off himself. The Elf and the Bretton that Azura had brought on this strange quest.

"Hello" said the Elf.

_Hello again and sorry for not posting sooner as I had promised. I lied to you. I think that I'm gonna finish the story before committing Harakiri out of the shame of dishonoring this site. _


	3. Chapter III -The road to Skingrad

This was quite a bad day, she thought to herself, being kidnapped by Azura and transported to a cave with a total stranger and having to find her way out without knowing where she was or why she was there or even what she was supposed to be doing there.

But the expressions on the faces of the two men as she and the wizard entered the room… Priceless. They looked up from the floor, still hugging each other, in a mix of embarrassment and surprise. They were both thrashed and one of them was missing a boot, which the other held in his mouth. As soon as he saw her, his jaw dropped open and the boot dropped on the older guy's head.

They stared at them for about a minute, and since they didn't seem to have any intention of doing so, she decided she should say something.

"You don't need to feel… ashamed. We in Morrowind are quite… open-minded"

Their faces turned even redder than they already were, something she until then thought was not possible, and they tried desperately to disengage from one another, something they eventually managed to do, mumbling curses and excuses all the way.

"We were just… fighting", said the tall one

"Yes, yes. You see we had a bet…" the other tried to fill in.

She looked at the mage, who must had developed a particular interest in a specific spot in the floor, as he was looking at it for quite some time, while holding one hand on his mouth, as if trying to contain a laugh. She rolled her eyes and turned to face the others. The big guy was reluctantly giving the other his boot with one hand and was dusting himself off with the other.

When they were done (and the boot was back in its owner's foot), she figured she needed to get the whole team organised. She clapped her hands to get their attention, and it seemed to work. She noticed that none of them had any weapons and decided to ask them about it.

"Have you searched the room for anything useful?" she asked.

They blushed again, probably out of shame for being so useless, and the older guy started to say something, but she stopped him

"Right, go do it now", she said and the whole team seemed eager to obey. Which gave her some seconds to clear her head. By the ancestors, that was a close call, she thought. If it wasn't for that door and the conversation had gone on… She knew she would have to confront her past one day, but she would rather leave it for the future. Right now she had a mission, given to her by the same crazy deity who had given her the last one, that suicide mission to the Red Mountain. She had come out alive, and it was even worse. It had dawned on her that you either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself run from the public that wants to hug you and shout "our hero", receive death threats from nearly every lunatic who thought some sort of apocalypse was coming and was disproved, and eventually die out of boredom in one of Almalexia's meetings. At least the people here seemed more interesting, especially that cute Bretton. Wherever that here was, anyway. You can count on Azura to give you a mission to save the world and just forget to give you any sort of directions or any help at all.

At last, the bretton's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey, come over here"

She did, and saw a chest. He had opened it and inside there were weapons, some potions, money and a map. She grabbed a dagger as he gathered the rest of them. The blade was nice and sharp, made out of some dark steel, but she already missed her old dagger. She also took a bow, a composite one with a leather handle, and filled her quiver with some arrows. While marksmanship was not her strongest suit, she was quite good at it. The others had also equipped their weapons. The Nord now seemed much happier, holding a steel greatsword, and the Imperial was seathing an elegant dwemmer longsword, while the mage was examining a subtly embroidered staff that he was holding, having also taken a green dagger that seemed to be of Altmeri design.

The wizard stuffed the potions in his bag and gave her the money. Nobody had ever trusted her with money. She cautiously stretched her hand to grab it, thinking it might be some sort of joke.

"Well? Will you carry it or not?" said the man, and she quickly grabbed the money. She examined the coins. They weren't septims, for sure, but she couldn't recognize what kind of coin they were. The Imperial took the map and was explaining to the taller guy that he wouldn't be of much use with a map, being unable to read and all. They seemed ready for a second fight, but thankfully the mage interrupted them.

"Alright, alright, is everyone ready to go?" he said

"Hmph. Good ole Nordic steel would be much better, but I don't have much of a choice" complained the Nord.

"So we are ready to go. Speaking of which, does anybody know the way out of here?"

She looked around, and so a trapdoor on the floor on the other end of the room. She walked there, opened it and saw a ladder. She made her way down and found herself in a short tunnel, walls of stone around her. She could see light in the end of it.

"Hey, come on down here, I think I found the way out"

…..

Arturus was glad to see the sunlight again, even if he had to do this next to that stinking barbarian from the North. He needed to gather his wits, and the clean air would aid him in that. He had allowed himself childish behavior back in that room and had made a bad impression on his comrades. He would have to fix that misunderstanding later on.

He walked outside the cave, hearing the sound of grass under his freshly chewed boot. Then, out of the blue, the all-too-familiar now purple flash appeared. Azura spoke:

"Good. You finally found your way out. Hear me! I have done as I have said, and you are in the fifth age of Nirn. Go to the city of Skingrad, here in Cyrodiil. There you will find answers as to the nature of your quest. I cannot say more. I have risked much to say just these few words."

The purple light faded and the daedra vanished yet again.

"Great, 'Go forth my mighty heroes, oh and by the way, I am not going to tell you where forth is!' Already feels like home", spoke the Dunmer lady in a sigh.

"So what do we do? Do we make for Skingrad?" asked the wizard.

"We do not know where we are, Arturus answered, we cannot walk the land directionless. It would be folly. I suggest we make camp here until we figure out the way to Skingrad. We could camp back in that cave…"

Turning around he saw that the opening had vanished, and was now solid rock. If he ever got the chance, he would make Azura suffer a slow and terrible death.

"…Or we could search for the nearest road, camp there and wait for some traveler to pass our way."

So they did and it was not before long that a traveler did pass. He was on a wagon pulled by one ox, and seemed like a farmer. On the back of the wagon was a load of wheat and barley. Arturus figured it must be his harvest.

"Excuse me, my good man, do you know the way to the city of Skingrad?" he asked.

"That I do, Answered the farmer. In fact I am on my way there to sell this here wheat! You folks can climb on, and we'll be off to Skingrad."

After thanking the farmer they climbed on the back of the ox cart and the farmer continued down the road. The journey was quite pleasant. The ride was better than walking all the way to the city and the company was also good. Arturus thought they were quite lucky to have run across this man. Though dark clouds had gathered in the sky, it did not rain.

After some time of journeying, there was a loud noise and the cart stopped moving.

"Whoa, I'd better go check what happened", said the farmer while climbing down. After a little while, Arturus heard him say "Gee, looks like the wheel's completely broken. I can patch it up a bit, and I think it'll get us to the nearest inn."

Suddenly, Arturus saw movement in the trees on the side of the road. Before he could react, a man with an axe jumped out of the undergrowth. He unseathed his sword and jumped in front of the farmer, but an arrow had already pierced the bandit's throat. He looked behind him and saw the elf, already aiming another arrow at the bushes.

"Highwaymen. It's an ambush!" shouted the Nord while jumping off the other side of the cart.

Arturus turned to the farmer: "Hide under the cart! We will deal with them!" The frightened man nodded and slid under his cart.

Just in time, for right then more bandits appeared and started charging towards them, brandishing crude axes, spears, and maces. He slashed at one and raised his left hand to block another, only too late recalling that he didn't have a shield. He was bracing for the hit, when a lightning bolt hit the bandit in the chest and turned him into a pile of ashes, scattering in the wind. Arturus was thankful for the break that the wizard had given him, and took his time to focus again. Another bandit charged on his left side but this time he was ready. He easily dodged the hit and pierced the bandit in the chest. He slashed at another's legs and he fell down screaming, while the imperial leaned in for the kill. Then one of his comrades charged at him and managed a hit on his right arm, however the mage had casted a protective spell on him and the blade bounced off harmlessly. He moved his sword in a wide arc over his head and slashed at the staggering bandit. The wizard had once again been quicker and had frozen his enemy on spot. Arturus' sword hit the ice, and it shattered to a million pieces, along with the poor man inside.

Thus his work on this side was done and he looked the other way. The Nord didn't seem to be in need of any aid, as the last bandit was being disarmed simply by, what seemed to be his opponent's voice, speaking some sort of ancient Nordic words. The bandit turned tail and run.

"Come back and die like a proper Nord!" shouted the victor, only now seeming to heed the huge gash on his right leg. Surprisingly, the man did not come back to die like a proper Nord, and they all gathered back to the Cart. The farmer emerged from underneath his wagon.

"Boy, that was quite the fight! he exclaimed. I knew that armed fighters are always handy when down the road, but I wasn't expecting brigands in these parts!"

Arturus opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of a grunting man stopped him. He turned around and saw one of the bandits limping away.

"Quick! Aim for his legs!" he shouted. No sooner had he finished his sentence than a spark left the wizards fingers. It reached the limping man's leg and he fell to the ground screaming.

Arturus walked up to him, and grabbed him by the neck. He dragged him to the cart and pressed him against the wooden frame.

"Who are you people? I can tell by the uniformity of your apparel that you are not mere bandits!"

The man wavered for about ten seconds, but gave no answer.

"Answer me, or I will have my friend here cause much more pain to you than you can possibly imagine", said Arturus, pointing at the blood-stained Nord behind him who looked ready for more blood.

"Alright, I'll tell you everything I know, shouted the man. Just don't hurt me!"

"Well you'd better start talking, then" said the Nord, putting one hand on the man's shoulder.

"We are mercenaries from Skyrim. We fought for Nelus Octavian, the new king of Cyrodiil. We helped him sack Bravil, Skingrad and Kvatch. And what does he offer in return? Nothing!" He simply told us that our services were no longer needed, and we were lucky to be living the palace alive!"

"And what made a band of armed mercenaries so afraid?" said the Imperial, knowing that his way with words would grant him answers. "I don't think that it was the City guard that so unnerved you."

"I ain't not scared of no guard!" shouted the mercenary. "But this new king… he dabbles in all sorts of strange magic. They say that he has found a way to chain the devines themselves! I wasn't gonna sit around for him to blast my soul or something! You can see it in his empty eyes that he wields terrible power!"

"I would sooner see this with my own eyes", he spoke, yet the mercenary's words troubled him deeply. What kind of power was that, which had instilled in him so much terror? "You shall come with us to Skingrad. You will get what medical assistance you can there. I hope that by this act of kindness, you will lead a life as an honest man"

"Why not just kill him and be done with it?" the Nord jutted in. Arturus resisted the urge to kill HIM and be done with it. Instead he turned to face the other members of their company.

"What do you think should be done with our here prisoner?"

"I don't care either way", said the Elf.

"I will have to agree with you on this, swordsman. Let's give him a second chance."

And so it was that they went forth on their westward journey, bound for Skingrad, with dark clouds above them and a darker quest ahead of them.


	4. Chapter IV -Talk over bed and board

It was raining heavily when they reached the inn. The carriage ride had not been as pleasant, with a broken wheel and to injured men to tend to. He had spent the whole day patching up both the mercenary and the Nord, the latter grumping about not being in need of a wizard's assistance, which puzzled him, as Skyrim had always been famous for its love of magic, holding one of Tamriel's largest colleges in the capital city of Winterhold. So Septimus was much relieved to see the inn's lights flicker in the distance. Some food and a warm bed was all he needed right now. And after that, some more rest. The ambush hadn't been very magicka depleting, but he had been sleepless, and healing the wounded was the final blow to his energy and mood.

The wagon stopped outside the inn and they climbed off.

"What a rainstorm", said the farmer "Lucky we covered up my crops before they got the worst of it."

"I don't like this storm one bit", said the Imperial. "We are indeed fortunate to have found the inn in time. Now listen here my good man. Thank you for taking us thus far. It was most kind of you. But you do not need to carry us any further, as your wagon is already overencumbered."

"Are you joking?" replied the farmer with a laugh. "What if I, let's say, met any more of his friends" –he pointed at the captive mercenary- "without you people around?"

"You truly are a most worthy farmer, my fine fellow", said the Imperial, and with these words they moved for the inn's stables. The farmer tied his and cart, and fed and watered his ox. After that, they entered the inn, and Septimus was glad to find that it was warm, cozy, and quiet. The last thing they needed was a bar-brawl between the Nord and some poor drunk. They approached the barmaid, who was absent-mindedly cleaning a pitcher. "Greetings", said the Nord "We would like to rent three rooms, if you have them"

"Aye", answered the barmaid, getting her attention of the pitcher and on the customer's "Would you like to eat anything while I ready your rooms?"

"Food and mead would be the best way to spend this evening" said the warrior, and they all agreed. Septimus had developed a fondness for mead after his few years in the college of Winterhold, and right now it was the best possible thing. They sat at a table in the empty inn. The dark elf lady sat next to him and the farmer sat on his other side. The Imperial and the Nord sat across the table, with their captive between them. Septimus thought about how he had fought alongside these men, yet their names eluded him.

"I do not think that any of us have properly introduced themselves", he said. "We can do so now. I am Septimus, mage of High rock, called by some hero of Daggerfall."

"What's your story, master Bretton?" asked the Nord

"I have travelled the northwest of Tamriel for some years. In my youth I visited Skyrim, and the City of Winterhold,"-at this the Nord raised an eyebrow, as if mentioning City and Winterhold together was weird- "and learned at the College. I left, seeking adventure, and adventure found me. I have danced with ghosts and shadows, and seen ancient wonders that no man should ever see. When I thought things had quieted down in the Iliac bay, some Daedra drags me off into yet another adventure. I cannot complain. Back home, someone had sent a cutthroat after me, and Azura intervened just in time. But please tell me what is your story, my friend Nord, for you seem also a man of adventure"

"My friend, I am non other than Raglaff Strong-voice, the famed Dragonborn of legend, hero of Skyrim, and scourge of the dragons. I am the one who defeated Alduin, the dragon son of Akatosh, in Sovengarde by the hall of Heroes. After that I travelled across my homeland, putting ancient legends back to legend and keeping the people safe in these dark times of civil war, for a price of course. You could say that I am a soldier of fortune"

"Oh what a braggart", said the older Imperial, interrupting Raglaff. "Wait –what was that about Dragons?"

"You did not know that the dragons have awoken from the ancient times to plague the fourth age?" said Raglaff with real question in his voice.

Septimus looked at the Nord and a thought that had clouded his thought the past two days only now begun to unravel.

"We are not from the same times", he said. "I am from the third age, the years following the war of Bettony, while this is a Nord from another age. Interesting"

"Well I am Arturus Berhus, hero of cyrodiil, from the end of the third age", said the Imperial after a brief pause, "and have seen Merhunes Dagon himself walk the planes of men. I have seen the last Septim fall and Akatosh all-father battle with the demon and throw him back to that hellish pit. I have been there, and back. I have done my part to help save this world. Akatosh gave me strength to battle with Madness and to build my home and family. And when he deemed the time was right, Arkay took my wife. I have lived in solitude ever since, helping restore order to the land anyway I could." The man seemed a bit sad to recall his days, so Septimus decided not to press him further.

"And what is your story, my lady?" he said. It was clear now that the elf was uncomfortable talking about her past.

"Well…" she started.

…..

Why was it so hard to talk about herself? There she was, sitting like the little kid in front of its burned house, unable to speak. _Snap out of it!_ Shouted the voice in her head, and she decided to obey. She would just say some titles and stuff and would be done with it.

"Well, I… am a dunmer of Morrowind, and the Nerevarine, and I guess I'm some sort of hero" she said. "If you want a name you can call me…" she stopped. She hadn't used her name in a very long time. "…Blackbird", she decided, recalling the name from her teen years in the streets of Mournhold.

The others looked skeptical, and then the mage spoke.

"A mysterious name for a mysterious lady. Pleased to meet you, Blackbird."

_Well, blast me,_ she thought, _it must be true what they say about the silver tongues of Brettons_. His voice was reassuring and made her feel calm. _A mysterious lady,_ his words echoed in her head.

The barmaid came to interrupt her thoughts, bringing food and mead as they had ordered. Standing over the table next to her, she served each a bowl of stew, and a mug of the sweet brew.

"Well I hope you don't mind me sitting here with you"

"Not at all", said the farmer, and the barmaid sat at the head of the table. Blackbird took a sip of mead. It was stronger than the drinks in Morrowind, but tasted great. They silently emptied their bowls. She was feeling much better now with food and drink in her belly.

Then the Imperial said "My lady, and you, my fine fellow, I haven't been in Cyrodiil for a very long while. Would you be so kind as to inform me of what has come to pass in the Imperial province the past years?"

"The only thing I know is that the taxes have gone up, and life has gone down", the farmer complained.

"Well I do know a thing or two, owning an inn and all and I will share it, with such a polite and handsome man!" said the barmaid with a smile. Blackbird looked at Arturus, and found that indeed he was handsome. His face bore the scars of old battles that will never truly heal, and streaks of white adorned his dark gray beard and hair. He was in very good physical condition for his age, and strangely reminded her of home.

"The years after the Empire fell were total chaos. The Elves tried to claim the land, but some kind of rebellion forced their army to go back home. They passed this way sometimes when I was but a little kid, and I remember they all had the same attitude, treating me like a dog or something. Anyway, after the Elves left, rebellion sparked in every county. Naturally, the petty lords started fighting amongst themselves, trying to take more lands and power from each other. There were a lot of mercenaries in my pa's inn at the time, and they all wanted to tip my pa something extra to let them sleep with me. I may not look like it now, but back in the day I was a real beauty. My father would usually say no, but there were a few with heavy pouches and heavier swords, so what could we do?" the woman sighed in recalling those days. Blackbird tried to imagine what it would be like for this woman, waiting tables at day and pleasing men at night. Not pleasant, that's for sure.

"…and then came the Tyrant", the old lady continued "At first we thought him to be just another rebellious lord, who fought to take his master's land. But as the time passed, more and more travelers came my way, with tales of dark sorceries, and fear in their eyes. They say that he now rules over most of the Imperial Province, while the capital and some cities still hold out."

"Thank you my lady", said Arturus "that would be all for now. Farewell"

"Sleep well, dears" said the barmaid. They went off to sleep in their beds. Outside of the door to the first room the Nord stopped.

"I will take this mercenary and bind him. This should keep him in his place while I rest." With that, he went in the room and closed the door behind him, dragging the poor man with him. This would be quite a night for their prisoner, she thought. They went on and stopped outside the two opposing doors of their rooms.

"No offence", said Arturus, "but I think I'll spend the night with my fellow Cyrodiilian. Goodnight." He and the farmer went in the room on the right and shut the door behind them.

Great, she thought. That left her with that handsome little wizard, Septimus. Without a word, they entered the room. Like the rest of the inn it was warm and cozy. On a normal occasion, this would be a very fortunate turn of events, but this wasn't a normal occasion. She was on a quest and she couldn't afford to be distracted. Plus he didn't even know the guy.

"Take of your clothes", she heard herself say. _Wait, what?_ She was such an idiot! Why did she even say that?

"Excuse me?" came the voice of a very confused Bretton.

"You don't want to sleep in your armor, do you?" The Bretton nodded, and she held a sigh of relief. _Nice save_, she thought to herself. Then she noticed the bigger problem at hand. In the room there was only one, double bed. _By the flame_, she thought, _is fate taunting me? _They awkwardly slipped under the covers and she tried to get as comfortable as she could. It was not before long that sleep took her, and a pleasant sleep it was.

….

Septimus woke up to a woman's warm hug. He was never a morning person, so he took some time to take in his surroundings. He was in an inn room, lit by candles on the walls. He was in bed with a girl. He looked at her, and his heart did a minijump as he quickly remembered the past two days. Despite that, he felt good lying on his back, with Blackbird's arm over him. He took his time to look at the beautiful elf besides him. Her raven-black hair was spread all over him and the pillows. Her lips were set in a pout, and did a little puff noise when she breathed. Her purple eyes were slid shut. Gods, why did he even remember the colour of her eyes?

He saw her eyelids slowly raising as she woke. She didn't move; instead she let out a little yawn. She slowly moved her head to look at him. When she found him staring back at her, she blushed and quickly jumped out of bed.

"Alright! Goodmorning, rise and shine!" she said, and Septimus could see her face was red with embarrassment. She threw him out of bed, and hastily made ready. Septimus followed her example, quickly putting on his robes and few pieces of light armor. He grabbed his staff and bag and followed Blackbird outside the room. She was clearly trying to avoid any sort of conversation. He wasn't particularly interested in discussing what happened either so he simply followed her down the hall, to where the two imperials were waiting. They sat in silence until, after about two minutes, Raglaff came down with his pet prisoner. Much to Septimus' surprise, the mercenary was alive and unhurt. They readied the cart, after the farmer with a little help from the barmaid had completely fixed the broken wheel.

The rest of the journey to Skingrad went smoothly. The weather was much nicer, and they were well rested and with full stomachs. During the ride, he would often catch Blackbird looking his way and when she realized he knew that, she would blush and turn away. The others didn't seem to notice this, or if they did, they paid it no heed. After some hours of journey, they reached the city of Skingrad. There they stopped and got off the cart.

"Here we must part ways", said Arturus. "Thank you for the ride"

"I thank you for saving my life", answered the farmer. "If you ever need a place to rest in these parts, just go to the marketplace. There you will find a woman selling fruits, vegetables, and baked bread. Just tell her that Allius sent you, and my niece should fix you with food and bed.

"Thank you again, and farewell, Allius". On this they parted ways. After a while, Arturus turned to the rest of them and said:

"We must separate groups. I will take Septimus and search for information while you two gather supplies and whatever else you find useful." Septimus was good with that, as the Imperial seemed to inspire his confidence, and could surely handle himself in combat. Also, if Arturus had sent him with Blackbird, the whole situation would have been very awkward for him and for her.

They had been scouring the City to no avail for quite some time, when they heard the sound of many army boots walking on the cobblestone street. The men wearing those boots appeared from around the corner and into the square that Septimus and Arturus were standing. Their captain stopped and shouted at the crowd.

"This woman and her companion defied the laws of our lord Nelus Octavian and must be now put to death. Stand aside, and let us deal with them as the law decrees!"

And then, behind one of the soldiers, Septimus saw Blackbirds' raven hair. Then the soldier urged the girl forth, and he could see that it was indeed her. Besides her, two men were dragging what seemed to be an unconscious and chained Nord.

"Hey!" he shouted, without clearly thinking about it. "Release her! NOW!"

"Well, well, look at here", said another soldier. "More upstarts. This will be fun!"

Septimus saw them draw their swords, and heard Arturus do the same. He readied a fireball in his hand and launched it at the enemy.


End file.
